suddenly the sky erupts
by keep-swinging
Summary: They're together. That's all that matters. / High Teen Rating, One-shot. Complete. Secret Santa Gift for Fist-it-Out!


~Author's Note~

Hey guys! Another zombies fic so soon, awesome right? This was for the Zombies Secret Santa event over on Tumblr, and my Secret Santa happens to be _fist-it-out_ so I wrote her a whole boatload of angst because I didn't know what else to do, lol.

This story is a little higher up on the rating scale, definitely high teen, and there's some serious stuff thrown in too so just be aware of that I guess, and thank you guys so much for the support, always! I appreciate it so, so much. fist-it-out, my dude, you are honestly one of the best people I've come across in a while. Thanks so much for dealing with me, and I promise I will keep my roasting to a minimum today!

Reviews would mean the world to me guys, and since this is my probably my last posting of a zombies fic for the year, Merry Christmas!  
(Oh and this story was inspired by Trampoline by Shaed!)

* * *

.

.

.

**suddenly the sky erupts**

.

.

.

The turn signal ticks as Zed waits for the other side of the highway to clear. His hand is still grasping Addison's across the dented console, has been since they left town. They've driven over fifty miles. She's been watching the truck's mileage and gas gage nearly the whole time, and both showed more wear and tear than ever before.

The final car passes them, an old, beaten up Toyota that had probably been alive longer than Zed, navy blue disappearing behind them like the clouds above. He takes the turn slowly, and it could almost be written off as causal.

He pulls into a spot that's far from the office—you could never be too careful—and turns the key. The truck sputters to a stop, all noise around them ceasing, leaving the two in silence.

Addison can hear his breathing, he can hear hers, and the motel sign a few feet away is the only thing keeping them from being plunged into complete darkness.

Half the letters are burnt out and the sign underneath that claims _full vacancy!_ looks like it's been there a hundred years. Addison takes a look around the lot as Zed pulls out his wallet and double-checks that the money's still there, crispy and new.

There's only a handful of cars lingering in the parking lot; a silver Nissan half-dead across from them, a black Honda parked haphazardly in the corner. Two compact cars nearly door-to-door in the middle of the lot. A single Dodge Ram with a lift by the motel's sign-in office.

She exhales, steadying her heartbeat.

They're okay. They're going to be okay.

It's okay.

Zed squeezes her hand.

Her hand feels clammy all of a sudden and a part of her wants to pull away. She doesn't. "Come on, Addy," he whispers, his wallet shoved back into his jeans pocket.

The cabin is so quiet it sounds like he's shouting and his words don't startle her but his voice does even though he's not. She looks over at him, blinking sluggishly, like she was just shaken awake after being asleep for far too long, and he tries his best to smile. His lips only lift halfway, and it's a shitty attempt, but she appreciates it anyway.

It's so quiet.

She hears things that aren't there, feels bruising grips that aren't her own. She hears him, hears the fizzle of the electric, sees the flash. Feels the arms around her grow tighter, and tighter still, and suddenly it's hard to breathe, and he's on the ground, and there's—

Zed squeezes her hand again.

Her eyes snap to his. She's breathing heavy but she doesn't remember doing so, and she doesn't realize how hard she's squeezing his hand until the tips of her own fingers are going numb. He doesn't try to give her another shitty attempt at a smile. They're past that now. Now it's just them, two tiny suitcases, his dad's old pickup, and a wad of cash.

He reaches for his door handle and pulls it inward. His door opens with a soft _pop_. "Come on, Addy," he repeats, quieter this time. His voice still echoes loudly through the cabin. "You need to rest."

* * *

"What do you mean we're out of hot chocolate?"

Zed can hear the telltale sign of his girlfriend rifling through the kitchen cabinets as he takes another sip of his drink, waving away some of the steam still wafting off the top with a cold hand.

He'd been shoveling snow for over two hours, going the extra mile to clear his dad's driveway along with Eliza, Bonzo's and Zeke's next door, before finally, _finally_ shuffling through their apartment's front door, stomping off his snow boots and heading directly to the bathroom for a nice, long—and very hot— shower.

After he had grabbed the fluffiest blanket he could find and wrapped it around himself, he made himself a big mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, before plopping down on the living room couch and restarting Christmas with the Kranks from the beginning.

All the while Addison had been tidying up around the house, discussing Christmas plans with her mom, and rolling her eyes at the snow path Zed had still managed to leave between the front door and the bathroom door.

He doesn't hear Addison clear her throat from behind him, too engrossed in the movie, and he doesn't hear her clear her throat the second time either. She huffs before walking around the couch and standing in front of the television, her hands on her hips.

Zed takes another sip from his mug, slurping loudly, and when he pulls back, there's a hot chocolate mustache above his lips. Her expression turns into one of pure betrayal and he doesn't waste a second with grinning, still chewing a marshmallow stuck in between his teeth.

"You are literally the worse," she says with a groan as she falls down on the couch next to him, hitting him playfully in the arm. He chuckles, passing the mug over to her without another word, and she takes a sip, and then he's draping his fluffy blanket across her shoulders and standing up.

He stretches, his nightshirt riding up a little, and Addison finds herself glancing at the waistline of his boxers before his eyes. He heads over to the front door and steps into his still-drying snow boots before sticking one arm into one of his hoodies hanging on the coat rack.

She turns towards him, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Where are you going?"

He grabs his keys from the hook and makes his way back over to his girlfriend, leaning down and cupping one of her cheeks in the palm of his hand before giving her a loving kiss, and when he pulls back her cheeks are red.

"To go get some hot chocolate," he says with a soft smile, shrugging like what he's doing is nothing. "It's going to be super cold this week, so I figure we're going to need a lot. Plus," he says with a wave towards what was previously his cup, "a half cup of hot chocolate only warms you up halfway."

Addison reaches up and grabs at his chin, bringing him in for a longer kiss, tasting more marshmallow than chocolate on his tongue, and when they pull back, her heart feels like it's beating a million times faster.

"Hey," she whispers, tracing the curve of his jaw with her finger, "I love you."

He gives her that look, that look that she's come to know so well, that look that's hers and hers only. That look that she swears he must practice, because no one else has looked at her like that, not even her own mother. That look that speaks louder than words, which he pairs with the words anyway.

"I love you too."

He leans in for another kiss and Addison finds it hard to pull away.

* * *

December 21st,  
12:02am  
_as i'm looking up  
suddenly the sky erupts,_

"Are you even old enough to rent a room?"

The man behind the counter is short with dirt under his fingernails and a smell that isn't all too pleasant. Behind him is the key rack and in front of him is a clump of bills that has him raising a bushy eyebrow.

The sign-in office is small and bland—the only splash of color in the room is the brown, circular coffee stain on the short man's shirt. There's a dead plant by the door withered grey and smudges of dead bugs on the window.

Another _full vacancy!_ sign sits in this window, it's moth-eaten and colorless.

Addison stands slightly off to the side behind Zed, who basically towers over the short man and his surprisingly clean desk. There's a twitch to his shoulders that tell her he's getting irritated. She wants to forget about everything and drag her hands from his bare shoulders to the middle of his bare back.

She wants to forget.

"Do you need my license?" Zed snaps, giving the short man a glare. "We're both twenty-two. Do you have any rooms available or not?" The short man grumbles something under his breath, which Addison doesn't catch. Zed's zombie-hearing picks it up and his irritation grows tenfold.

"Because I'd rather not waste my time at this shithole if I don't need to," he all but growls, and the short man hadn't batted an eye at Zed being a zombie when they had first walked in and he still doesn't now.

Addison wonders how many zombies have hidden out in seedy motels like this one because they had nowhere else to go. No one to go to. She wonders how many of those cars out in the parking lot belong to zombies.

Addison reaches up and settles her hand between the curve of Zed's shoulder blade and neck. He's still angry but she grounds him enough. Her eyes don't leave the short man's face as he rummages through a few things in one of the desk's drawers.

She wonders if he's ever called the Z-Patrol on a zombie.

He produces a piece of crumpled paper and slides it across the desk without as much as a second glance.

"Forty-five bucks a night for a single bed, fifty-five for two."

Zed's eyes scan over the sheet, which are misspelled words of what comes with what package, what can get you booted and other things like that. The short man picks at his nails, disinterested as Zed reads through the paper quickly.

He pushes the wad of money already on the desk towards him.

"One bed, seven nights."

He reaches for the cash with a grunt and swiftly counts through it before reaching over and shoving it all into a cash drawer that's without it's register. He grabs a random room key from the rack before handing it over to Zed with a mangled five dollar bill in change.

"Enjoy your stay," he recites, and the bell above the door rings before the short man is even finished with his sentence.

.

.

.

Room 17 has a creaky door and a crack in the window glass. Zed sets both of their suitcases at the end of the bed as Addison triple-locks the door behind them, and the second thing Zed does is grab for the television remote.

"Don't," she whispers, his calloused thumb already over the faded red button. He meets her eyes across the small room as the box television hisses to life, and for the first time in the eight years of their relationship, he lies.

"I wasn't." His finger runs across the numbers on the remote before finally settling on the weather channel. They both stare at the screen, watching as the weekly outlook predicts rain, snow and more snow. It's a perfect fit.

She knows he's staring at her before he realizes he is.

"Did you want to get washed?"

She shakes her head, arms still crossed over her chest.

He swallows and tries to remember a time when things weren't how they were now. Wordlessly he stands and moves over to where the suitcases are, opening them one at a time. He digs through both until he finds suitable pajamas for both of them and then he's gingerly placing a set in her hands. She doesn't remember moving her arms and opening her hands. His fingers brush against her knuckles as he does so and she shivers.

His body falls to the ground. She screams.

"You should try to rest,"

No, she corrects herself. He's still standing. He's still standing here and she hasn't screamed.

His voice is soft, the edges still raw. Neither of them have had anything to drink in hours. Her stomach growls quietly, begging for something substantial, the granola bar she had for breakfast already thoroughly out of her system. Zed hears. His hand hovers near hers, "Do you want to eat?"

Yes, her stomach crows.

"No," she says.

He nods.

He meets her eyes, and he wants to touch her. He wants to forget.

His fingers trail slowly up her arm until his entire palm is cupping her shoulder. The pajamas feel heavy in her hands. His touch feels light. His other hand goes up her arm, cups her shoulder, and then slides down to the curve of her waist. The television buzzes in the background. There's a blizzard slamming into Seabrook right at this very moment.

Let it all burn, she thinks as she closes the distance between them and slams her lips against his. The pajamas fall from her hands, and she feels free. His arms wrap around her waist as he moves backwards, and when the back of his knees hit the bedframe he falls back, allowing the comforter to catch him.

She follows him, straddles him around the waist. Only pulls back from his swollen lips to tug his shirt over his head and then kisses him harder. His fingers catch at the hem of her shirt and then move down to the waistband of her pants, where they don't catch.

It's always easier to forget.

* * *

"Hey! No peeking!"

"Alright, alright!"

Addison moves around him some more, humming to herself as she works. He sighs the longer she makes him keep his eyes covered and she swats at his arm when he asks her if they're there yet as a joke. After what seems like forever, she tells him he can look.

When he pulls his hands back his mouth drops open. She smiles wide.

In front of him is a Christmas tree.

Made entirely out of _candy canes_.

Candy canes were his favorite thing about the holidays. He swears he must be in heaven as he marvels at it, poking at one of the candy canes and gasping when it really does stay together and doesn't fall apart or crumble.

He looks back up at Addison, unable to wipe the smile from his face. "How?"

She shrugs, "Bree's super good with crafts. Did you know they make edible glue nowadays? If they had that when I was a kid, there wouldn't have been as many crazy cake stacking shows as there was."

Zed can't wait any longer. He jumps up from the couch and goes to her, kissing her deeply. His arms wrap around her so he can kiss her longer, and when they break apart for air, she's never been so breathless in her life.

"I would say I love you but you already know I do," he teases, a smirk to his tone, but then he softens and his forehead presses against hers and it's turned intimate without the intimacy. "Thank you so much. This is the best surprise I've ever gotten, and that beats what we did on my eighteenth birthday—"

"_Zed!"_

"—and I love you, so, so, so, so, so, so—"

Addison giggles as he continues, peppering kiss across her nose, cheeks, eyelashes, across anything he can reach.

"—so, so, so, so much."

His lips find hers and then they just look at each other and Addison knows she could never tire of kissing such a great man. "Hey Ads," he whispers, and his tone of voice is making it hard for her to tell if he's serious or not.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Is this a bad time to say I didn't get you a present yet this year?"

She goes to roll her eyes but before she can her phone is ringing. Zed groans but releases his girlfriend so she can answer the call and she hushes him as he flops back down on the couch, burying his face into one of the cushion pillows. Her mother's face flashes across the phone screen as she hits the answer button. "Hey Mom, what's up?"

A minute or two passes in silence and Zed's so busy muttering about Addison's mother calling at the worst of times with his head stuffed against the couch cushion that he's not paying attention enough for his zombie-hearing to pick up what Missy's muffled voice is saying through the phone speaker.

It's only when Addison is pushing past him for the television remote and flipping to the news channel does he stop grumbling and sit up straight.

The news anchor's voice carries loudly through their apartment.

"We have some breaking news for Seabrook County tonight, folks. Mayor Missy Smith has just released a statement concerning the town's zombie population and it seems like things might finally be going back to normal after all."

The screen switches over to a piece of paper with her mother's name signed on the bottom, the news anchor's voiceover reading directly from it.

"In light of recent events, I've decided we need to stop going back and forth about zombies. From now on, zombies will be permanently separated from the Seabrook Community. These new rules will begin being enforced immediately and if any zombie, or human, breaks these rules, there will be extreme consequences."

Zed feels like he's been knocked out of his body and hit by a freight train.

There's already commotion outside, yells that aren't his friends or family. Sirens, hums of electric tasers and guns without their safeties on as the Z-Patrol goes from door to door, clearing one house at a time. Checking for any humans before they lock down Zombietown for good.

Addison's voice breaks. "Mom, how could you?"

* * *

December 22nd,  
4:33am  
_flames alight the trees  
spread to falling leaves  
now they're right upon me._

She wakes up gasping, coughing up water that's not water at all.

Zed's beside her, a steadying hand on her bare shoulder, but there's no air making it to her lungs and she feels like she's drowning. Sweat's dotted across her forehead. Her heart is pounding. She can still see him falling from behind her eyelids.

Zed's thumb traces circle after circle across her skin, trying to give her something to focus on.

His voice is a rumble in her ear.

It booms through the room. (Except that it really doesn't.)

"It's okay," he murmurs, and his finger traces a triangle this time, all sharp angles and smooth lines. "You're okay," he repeats, and her breathing begins to settle.

A square with four blunt corners.

A hexagon with an extra side, but she still calls it a hexagon because who really cares, all those school teachers never knew what they were talking about anyway. A fucking hexagon was nothing compared to this, to now.

"You're here with me," and—and something breaks inside of her, something breaks in the tone of his voice and she's off the bed faster than he can react.

No, no that's too much, she thinks as she slips on her sweatpants and grabs her hoodie from the floor by Room 17's creaky door. His hand reaches for her as the hoodie swallows her.

"Addison,"

She pulls the patched sleeves to the middle of her palms, gripping them tight. She opens her mouth, thinking she can answer. She ends up outside inside, the door slamming shut behind her.

Zed watches her go with tired eyes. After she's gone, he rubs roughly at his eyes, and pretends it's last week again. Zoey had wanted to hang out with her brother and his girlfriend all day. She got her wish and when it had started to snow, both girls had caught snowflakes on their tongues until Zed had kissed Addison instead. Zoey threw a snowball at them to get the party started, and—

He exhales. Scrubs at his eyes again.

"Goddammit," he says as he stares at the ugly painting next to the television. Who likes painting farmhouses anyway? When something slips down his cheek, he figures it was only a matter of time.

"Fuck it all," he mumbles as he wipes at his eyes, and when the tears don't stop and just keep coming, he stumbles to the bathroom and his fist finds the mirror.

The glass doesn't shatter like he had hoped it would and no little pieces find their way into his skin. When he looks at his reflection, there's a radiating crack where his cheek should be and in a way, he thinks that's how his reflection has always looked. He was always broken, always cracked.

Always replaceable.

A piece of glass crackles, falls from the mirror and tumbles down the sink drain.

Zed sobs.

.

.

.

A half-dead silver Nissan.

A black Honda in the corner.

Two compact cars door-to-door.

A Dodge Ram with a lift by the sign-in office.

Zed's old truck, parked perfectly between two faded yellow lines a few feet from the soundless highway.

Her eyes rake over every single car in the lot one more time before she's finally able to breathe again. A cold of smoke emits from her lips after every breath as she crosses her arms, a step away from the curb.

The early morning sky is cloudy and she can't find the remnants of the moon or the warm beams of the sun. Everything around her is silent. An unexpected breeze of wind makes the motel windows groan and causes a shiver to race down her spine.

They're okay. He's okay. She's—

Well.

She doesn't know what she is. A fugitive? A martyr?

Just someone in love?

Room 17's door opens with a creak. Zed wants to wrap his arms around her but he doesn't. His chest is still bare, but she can feel the fabric of his pants through the thin material of hers. He doesn't get cold.

"I never got to say that I was sorry." The breeze goes by again, pushing some of her hair to the side. He doesn't shiver; she can't help it. "You didn't have to choose me."

She shakes her head.

"Zed," kissing him feels like so long ago, "you're the only choice I have."

* * *

"How could you?" Addison says again, louder this time. "Zombies are human too! Zombies deserve rights and—"

Zed's tuned into his zombie-hearing this time. When Missy replies, he hears every single vowel. "Addison, please. Your father is on his way to pick you up. You need to stay calm until he gets there and understand that this is nothing you could've helped."

She sighs, the sound crackling through the speaker. She had a meeting up north today, he remembers. She had told them about it the day before when Zed was shoveling snow and Addison was putting together Christmas plans.

"The state isn't happy."

She sounds way too calm about this, but maybe that's just her way of giving up. Some people aren't meant to fight. "Seabrook isn't happy. Things quieted down for a little while, but it's amped back up again and it's worse this time around. It's not safe for you or anyone else. Zombies are no longer welcome."

Addison doesn't lose her words. "You can't take me out of my own apartment! I'm staying—"

"The hell you are, Addison!" Missy shouts, startling her. The line going fuzzy for a moment, like she's going through a tunnel. "When your father gets there you will go with him so you can come back home safe to us. Please, Addison, don't fight this."

"There wouldn't be a threat to my safety if you hadn't sent the Z-Patrol breaking into houses with guns!" Addison's mother is quiet for so long that Zed can hear her every breath, and hear every footstep of the Z-Patrol rifling through the house next door.

"I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry, and I never wanted this to happen. I thought this meeting was about fixing things. But the Governor—"

The call cuts out, Addison's phone beeping.

"Shit," she whispers, trying to re-dial her mom's number but it doesn't even ring. "She must've gone through that underground tunnel," she says more to herself than Zed and next thing he knows she's pulling open the coat closet and grabbing the two suitcases his dad had given them when they had moved because he was afraid Puppy would eat them before he had a chance to put them up in the attic.

She's already in the bedroom by the time Zed's able to stutter out, "What are you doing?"

He hears the clink of hangers as she pulls shirts from them and then the open and shutting of drawers as she grabs underwear, socks and pants. When she reappears in the living room she places the suitcases on the couch, now stuffed to the brim.

"What does it look like I'm doing? We're leaving. Both of us."

Zed's brain short-circuits.

No. No, she can't.

"Addy," he tries as she goes to the kitchen, grabbing a few odds and ends. "We can't. You need to go." She scoffs, slamming shut the drawer she was searching through.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Well you sure as hell can't stay here—"

"Yes," she says steadily as she storms back into the living room, shoving the few things she had grabbing randomly in one of the suitcases, "that's why we're leaving, together."

She's in the bathroom and out faster than he can blink.

Toothbrushes, soap, deodorant in her arms one minute, stored away in a suitcase the next.

She zips up both and then goes to head back to their bedroom but before she can get far Zed's grabbing her by the shoulders, pleading with her. "Addison you need to go, now!"

"I'm not leaving you," she argues and he loves her with all of his heart, he really does, but he can't lose her and something in his gut was telling him something was going to happen if she didn't go, now.

"I can't lose you," he whispers, searching her eyes, feeling helpless and broken and wrong because _he's not human_—

"You won't."

Three loud bangs sound from behind them. "Z-Patrol! Open up!"

* * *

December 23rd,  
5:52pm  
_wait if i'm on fire  
how am i so deep in love?_

"I need to wrap that."

They had Chinese food for dinner. Addison doesn't eat and Zed cleared every last bit of Sesame Chicken in the container. She figures that makes sense, they haven't eaten in days. Her stomach knows this but her brain refuses to acknowledge it. She feels disconnected from her body, so she doesn't think it matters if she eats.

Zed begs her to at least drink something, so she clears a water bottle as they watch whatever random Christmas movie is on the Hallmark channel.

She had noticed the mirror of course.

What she hadn't noticed was his hand, his knuckles, scabbed over and too dark a yellow. She sees it as he lifts his fork to his lips a final time, and the words tumble out before she even knows what she's saying.

He looks back at her from the end of the bed, watches as her hand curls around the pillow she has pushed against her stomach. He struggles for words. Hopes they don't fall flat. Jingle Bells plays in the background.

"You don't have to."

She waits a moment before carefully climbing off the bed and walking over to the end of it, her legs pressing up against his crossed knees. He puts his container down on the bed as she reaches for his hand, and their fingers brush as she grabs it.

She pulls him up from the bed and into the bathroom, and releases his hand so she can reach for the first-aid kit he had bought when he gone to pick up the food.

He exhales and takes a seat on the side of the tub, resting his bruised knuckles on his knee. She takes a seat on the toilet lid and begins her work, first cleaning out the cuts and then applying the proper medicine. There's a shake to her hands he doesn't miss.

"Thanks," he murmurs when he feels like the silence has stretched on too long and she nods as she wraps a band of gauze around and around. "Addison," he whispers, only after the gauze is cut and secured tightly by his skin, "you don't . . . you don't owe me anything."

Her hands reach for the bottom of his shirt.

"I don't." She confirms quietly, pausing to pull on a loose string.

She won't look up at him. "I know I don't. But," she trails off and her bottom lip disappears behind her teeth. "I love you."

They both know this already. Zed holds his breath.

"Is that enough for you?"

She meets his eyes, her own wet, but her voice doesn't shake. "I don't know."

She gently tugs his shirt up and he pulls it off, wincing when he twists a little too far. Her fingers glide from the top of his chest down to his stomach and with a nail she starts to pull back the bandage holding him together. She tosses the bandage in the trash, already reaching for the medicine next to her. It looks better but then—

She sees him fall. His knees hit the carpet, his mouth open in shock, his hands reaching for the newly formed hole. Blood seeps, down, down, down, and she struggles harder and harder, screams, rattling the windows, but the house feels no pain.

"Addison,"

He hasn't moved. Her hand is hovering inches away from cleaning his wound. She looks up at him and back down again.

She sees him fall.

His knees hit the carpet.

She screams.

* * *

She zips up the suitcases and throws them to the floor. Zed goes through the house one last time, making sure they're not forgetting anything, and then they're kissing, desperate lips and clunking teeth.

Three more bangs sound from the door. "This is your last warning! Open up!"

She nods at him and kisses him one last time, and then his hand is on the knob and the door is open.

Three burly men they've never seen before enter their apartment, shoving both young adults aside as they search the house first before assessing the obvious human in the room. One guard stands near Zed and Addison's a few steps away, by the closet.

Zed decides to try some small talk, against his better judgment. "Are you guys new? Never seen you before," The man barely spares Zed a glance.

"Employed by the Governor. Wanted this finished before the end of the week so he hired some extra help."

"We're clear," one of the men who had taken to searching the house says as he goes to stand over by Addison. He grabs her elbow, roughly, and the other man who had moved to stand over by Zed smirks.

"Hey, let go of her!" Zed yells, and the man who had smirked doesn't waste any time as he slams his fist into Zed's gut. He crumples but the other man catches him before he can fall and then the man who had punched him takes a few steps back.

Addison cries out, going to move towards him, and in return the man holding her grasps at both of her arms and pulls her close to his chest, close enough that she can feel his breath on her ear.

"As of new State Law enacted today, any zombie trying to run or flee is to be meant by severe consequences." The man who had punched Zed is smiling as he inches his hand towards his pistol, "I think you've earned yourself a special consequence today, zombie."

There's a loud bang.

He falls, his knees hitting the carpet.

She screams.

The man whistles, impressed by his own shooting, laughing it off. Then he turns towards Addison and leans in close, whispering in her ear—

* * *

December 24th,  
1:49am  
_when i dream of dying,_

The curtain isn't shut all the way. The moon peeks through it, taunting her. She has half a mind to get up and close it herself but she can't bring herself to move. She knows he would close it for her if she asked, but a part of her doesn't want him to move. He's . . . he's her—

Addison doesn't remember the rest.

She remembers after and before, and that moment his knees had hit the carpet haunts her. She doesn't remember anything else. She decides to ask him. She knows he's not asleep; his breathing hasn't evened out not once. She wonders if it's because she hasn't slept yet, or if it's just because he can't.

"What happened? After you got shot?" Her voice carries across the small room. A spot on the wall above the television is molded through, wet and discolored. He hadn't bothered to turn off the television but the volume is low and the blue colors are better than the darkness.

She feels him shift beneath her, uncomfortable.

She's too selfish to move.

"You don't remember?" He asks, his voice no louder than a mumble. His hand flexes from where it rests slung across her bare stomach. She readjusts her head, burrowing herself deeper into his bare chest. The moon is blinding.

"No."

He's quiet for so long that she thinks he might've fallen asleep. He hasn't. The words are just too hard to find. In a twisted kind of way, he's thankful. He rather her remember this old, dirty motel than what he did.

"I love you," she whispers, just as he opens his mouth to speak. Her hand finds his and her fingers lock with his. "I don't know if it's enough." She admits, because understanding is what, the fifth step of grief or some shit like that?

"But I choose you because you are the only choice I ever will have. You are my choice. You always will be and," her voice cuts out. It's the most she's said since they ran. "I'm scared because of that. Because I don't know what's wrong with me, what's happening to me, or what's going to happen to you, to us, and I am scared shitless, Zed." She turns her head, hides her face. Her eyelashes flutter against his skin. "I'm—"

She goes to talk again but the words catch, she catches, and says nothing else.

"That man, the one that leaned in close to you," he shivers. He doesn't get cold. "He started to say some nasty stuff. Nasty, horrible things that he was going to—"

It's painful, having to relive the memory. He doesn't want to tell her.

"I don't know if it was planned, Addy. My Z-Band shut off for only a minute. I don't know if it was an error or if I caused it but by the time I was back online the men they were, they were," he stumbles, repeats, chokes.

She can tell he's starting to cry.

"There was blood everywhere, Addy. I got sick as soon as I saw it. I'll—I'll never forget it."

A tear lands in her hair and slides down her chin. "I'm sorry," he says, and everything comes back to her in flashes. She screams, and screams, and screams.

"Can you close the curtain," she whispers, sliding off of him.

His knees hit the carpet as the band shocks him back online, his growl turning human, turning into a scream. Blood cakes his chin, covers his fingers, sticks to his arms.

Zed stands and walks over to the window, sliding the curtain across.

The moon is shut out and the room is private again.

The words blurt from Addison's lips. "I've been counting cars." She says, and he stops as he turns around to face her. "I keep waiting for the patrol van to come and take you away." He stares. "I'm always looking at the car models, and I'm afraid one time I'll look out there and that van will be there."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She shakes her head. He closes the distance between them and climbs on top of her, gentle, cautious. "I will be here as long as you want me to be," he promises, his hands intertwining with hers above her head as he leans down.

He kisses her and his mouth tastes like blood.

She realizes he's always tasted like blood.

She decides then and there that she doesn't fucking care and kisses him harder.

* * *

He drives until the blood on the steering wheel dries.

He stops at a no name gas station on the side of a highway and asks Addison if she wants anything. She shakes her head and he disappears into the shop. She looks around, taking in the rusted pumps and potholes. There's a group of teenagers smoking in the far lot and both trashcans in front of the door are overfilled with empty cigarette containers poking out.

She looks down at her hands, surprised to see that they aren't covered in blood too.

The smell is strong in the cabin so she lowers her window, inhales the fresh air. She even brings herself to turn on the radio, smiling as sound flows from the speakers on either side of her.

"—please, if you see this zombie anywhere, call nine-one-one immediately. Again, he is highly dangerous and wanted for the murder of—"

The radio goes silent.

She's no longer smiling.

By the time Zed returns to his dad's old pickup, one pocket stuffed with all he could withdraw from his bank savings and the other full of wraps and Band-Aids, he drops the receipt to the floor, going to reach for her.

When she looks over at him, there's no more blood on his face, his arms, his hands. A tourist shirt replaces the one he was wearing and his jeans are dabbed with wet spots but there's no blood on those anymore either.

"Addy, you're okay. You're okay."

She falls into his chest, the position a little awkward with the console in the middle but he makes it work, pulling her in close. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and says nothing else.

* * *

December 25th,  
2:00pm  
_i never feel so loved._

The news is muted.

Live video of the motel they're holed up in, Z-Patrol cars swarming around the lot. A middle-aged anchor narrates the scene as it happens, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Zed can't stop staring and it's only when Addison pulls at his hand and moves in front of him, blocking his veiw, does he stop.

He looks up at her and she looks down at him.

She looks thin.

He looks haggard.

They both still look better than the room they're staying in. They can hear the sirens outside and the muffled shout. Zed's zombie-hearing can even pick up the static voices coming through the patrolmen's walkie-talkies. He doesn't repeat what he hears to Addison.

"Together?"

Her hands are cold. His are calloused.

His eyes drift to the small scar on her collarbone that she's had since their junior year of high school and then to the sole horizontal line on her wrist. His skin is scar-less and he hates himself because of it. Her eyes are an ocean and his are a wasteland. She deserves so much better. But.

He loves her too much to admit that out loud.

He thinks he could be better, for her.

He nods. She brushes away his tears with her thumbs. He leans into her touch.

"Together," he whispers.

.

.

.

They fall.

.

.

.

Their knees hit the carpet.

.

.

.

They—

.

.

.

_trip and i fall in  
i wanted it to happen  
my body turns to ice  
crushing weight of paradise  
_

_solid block of gold  
lying in the cold  
i feel right at home_

_._

_._

_._

They're together.


End file.
